


Cemetery Drive

by xRumkugelx



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bullying, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24596353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xRumkugelx/pseuds/xRumkugelx
Summary: Moving back to Belleville was something Frank had wished to avoid forever, but after the passing of his grandfather his mother decided that it would be for the better to move in with his grandmother. Not long after he comes across a guy his age who he regularly meets on the cemetery.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

Frank hated this. He hated all of this.

He hated the plain white walls of his new room, the window with the view on the grey road in front of his house, the bed that was way too big for one person. He hated every street, and every alley, and every house. He hated every inch of this god damn town. He may have been born here in Belleville, but his home was in Kearny, where he grew up. But now that his grandfather had passed away suddenly he and his mother had moved into a new house, so his mum could take care of his grandmother. A bitter old woman. 

He looked at himself in the mirror. His white shirt fitted his torso tightly, a bit too tight for his taste. His red tie hang loosely around his neck. The black jacket he was supposed to wear was lying on his bed. Frank hated that thing. It was too small and pinched on places he didn't know they exist. But he put it on anyways. It would please his mother even though you could see that it was way too small for him. He could barely close it and felt like it might rip at the seams once he moved the wrong way.

Frank walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror before he styled his black hair a bit with gel and put some more or less subtle reddish brown eye shadow on. The color around his eyes made him look almost dead. Or like a character from some old horror flick about vampires. 

When he got downstairs his mother immediately spotted him. That she liked his make up would be a lie. She grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him into the bathroom where she sat him on the closed toilet and started harshly scrubbing his face with a half dry make up wipe.

"I can live with your mohawk, I can live with your piercings and I can live with your stupid tattoos," she growled, cleaning his left eye. "But I won't live with you wearing make up. Make up is for girls and you're not a girl, how often do I need to tell you that?"

"But mum-," Frank began but was cut off by his mother. "No buts, Franklin. Make up is for girls and girls only," she said and threw the make up wipe into the trash. "Just think of what your poor grandmother would think if she saw you with that make up. Or all the girls. You will never get a girlfriend when you walk around like one of them."

Frank sighed heavily. To be honest, just the thought of being with a girl made him feel sick. He didn't like them. At all. He has been knowing this for years and by now he had given up hope to find at least one of them attractive. "I get it, mum," he just muttered and gave her an apologetic look. "Can I at least keep the belt on?"

"It has to be the pink one doesn't it?" Frank avoided her gaze. It had to be the pink one, it was his favorite. "You can, but know that I don't like it."

The ceremony was boring. So boring Frank could've sworn he almost passed out twice. All this talking about it all being a part of God's plan was just so tiring. If God was really as merciful and loving as he was, then why did he let the world be the way it is? If he was such a great person, why would he let people kill each other in his name? Why would he? 

Frank was almost happy when they carried the casket out of the little chapel and onto the cemetery. He just wanted to get it over. Just say his last goodbye and put his letter on the casket. A last thank you.

When they reached the grave he spotted a boy sitting on a gravestone a couple rows away. He was about Frank's age, maybe a bit older. His skin was pale. Almost white, as if he wore make up. The dark circles around his eyes looked like eye shadow. The fact that he probably wore make up made him very likable to Frank. His hair was pitch black. So was his leather jacket, and pants, and boots, and shirt, and nails. He wasn't attending the funeral but he almost looked like he belonged to them. The headphones he wore matched his whole aesthetic.

The only thing that stood out was the brightly colored comic in his hands. Frank wasn't entirely sure what the comic was about but he guessed The Flash based on the person in the bright red suit on the cover.

He was strangely sympathetic. Almost attractive to Frank. No, scratch the almost. That boy was attractive without any question. It wasn't new to Frank that he was attracted to men, but this was different. This wasn't like the porn he hid under his bed so his mother would never find it. This was a deeper lying attraction, a feeling that was very new to him.

He wasn't able to pull his eyes off the boy. The only time he looked away was when his mother gave him a slight slap on the arm and told him to pay attention. But then again, after a few minutes his eyes were on the boy again. But their eyes never met. He never looked up from his comic. Not even once. Even after he seemed to be done reading. He just closed it for a moment, looked at the cover and started to read it again. Did he even notice there was a funeral service going on just a couple rows away? Probably not.

Frank almost missed his opportunity to throw his letter on his grandfather's coffin, but just as he wanted to pull it out of his back pocket he realized that he had left it at home on his desk. He sighed heavily, which the other guests probably interpreted as a sigh of sadness and not of frustration. He'd have to go back to the cemetery some day. 

He'd have to go back to the cemetery soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Just two days later Frank found himself in front of his grandfather's grave. This time he had the letter with him. His final goodbye. All his feelings he had for his grandfather, written on a piece of paper.

"Hey granpa," he whispered, his hands deep in his hoodie's pockets. One hand clenching the white envelope tightly. "I forgot something at home a couple days ago. I-" he cut off. Frank felt weird. He was talking to a stone. No one would answer. The weird feeling faded quick and Frank just felt stupid. He sighed.

"I- I have something for you."

Frank pulled the letter out of his pocket and put it on the stone surrounding the grave. Carefully he put one of the floral wreaths away and started digging a hole with his hands. He only stopped when he was half an arm's length deep. He dusted his hands off on his washed out jeans, leaving brown steaks, and grabbed the letter. He put it in the hole and filled it with dirt again. Finally he put the flowers back and just sat there.

He should've been sad. He should've been crying. But he never did.He loved his grandfather. He had inspired him to start learning how to play guitar. But for some reason he didn't feel sadness, or loss, or grieve, or pain. He felt like he usually did. Numb.

He looked up from the dozens of flowers, his eyes immediately fixating on the black lump lying on the ground. The boy. Right where he sat just a couple days ago. But today it was different. He wasn't reading a comic. He was just lying there, his arms around the grave stone. Frank wasn't sure if he was dead or sleeping so he stood up and slowly walked towards him. He was just halfway there when he saw the mess that boy's make up was. Obviously he had been crying. Frank knelt down next to him and held a finger under his nose. He was still breathing. He was alive. That was all that mattered to him in that moment.

That boy was a complete stranger. Why should it matter to Frank that he had been crying?

*

Monday. Just a couple days after Frank has been on the cemetery. Just a couple days after he saw him the last time.

This was his first day of school. Well, his first day on this school. It was dirty, the floor was sticky and every locker was decorated with signatures. Frank's locker seemed especially old, judging by the faded blue and the many names written on it. Some were already fading and unreadable. But there was one name that immediately sprung to his attention.

Bert McCracken.

It wasn't the first name. It was the last name that caught his eye. McCracken. It seemed familiar. Frank felt as if he had read it not that long ago, but he couldn't remember where.McCracken was definitely a rare name. In his whole life Frank has never met someone, or someone who knows someone, with that name. But then why did it sound so familiar?

Frank decided that that was a question for some other time. A quick glance on his phone told him that he just had five minutes to get to his chemistry class and he didn't even know where the fuck he had to go. He put his books and lunch into the locker and headed into the direction he thought his chemistry class was. He didn't really look where he was going. He just walked into one direction until he bumped into someone.

"Where do you think you're going?" a male voice said and Frank looked up at the face of a guy with the most awesome hair he'd ever seen. He almost forgot that he was way taller than him and only wanted to reach up to touch that beautiful fro. But he didn't. Instead he just looked at it. "Mr. Freeman's chemistry class."

"Oh god, you must be new. The science rooms are in the other end of the school. Come with me, I have chemistry with Mr. Freeman now, too. I'm Ray, by the way." The taller guy, Ray, smiled down on the shorter one. "I'm Frank," was all Frank replied.

Chemistry went by fast. Frank wasn't sure if he has learned anything, since he's been talking to Ray the whole time, but he didn't care. Ray seemed nice, Frank found out that he too was playing guitar. They agreed to spend the break together and separated since Ray now had Math and Frank had English.

He found the room quite quickly since Ray had given him directions before they split up. Almost the whole class was already there, only two seats were left empty. Frank sat down on the one closer to the front and propped his head up on his hand, waiting for the lesson to begin.

When the teacher started reading the names of her students the chair behind Frank was still empty. Every name a student replied. Except for when she called out for a Gerard Way. The class stayed silent. The teacher just sighed and shook her head and carried on.

The period was halfway over when the door suddenly swung open and a boy with long black hair hiding his face stepped in. He didn't lift his head, he didn't apologize for coming too late. He just slowly walked to the empty chair behind Frank.

"Gerard we talked about this. If you come too late you have to apologize and state why." Gerard didn't reply. "The next time you come too late I have to report you to the principal."

Gerard huffed and replied with a silent: "Do I look like I care?"

Frank turned around and looked at Gerard, who had his arms crossed in front of his chest. He couldn't really see his face due to the hair, but he could see some of the slightly red cuts that plastered the light skin.

The teacher shook her head and carried on with the lesson. But Frank couldn't lift his eyes off the boy. He didn't know why, but he felt like he knew him. And when Gerard lifted his head Frank knew why.

He was the boy from the cemetery.


End file.
